The Revolution Of Mattie Williams
by LittleMissHobbitFace
Summary: This is my true bullying story, told with Hetalia characters. I want opinions on it before I try to find a publisher so... yeah, opinions welcome! This is my first time uploading with chapters, so fingers crossed it'll work out! x)
1. Prologue

This is my bullying story, switched with Hetalia Character names. I want opinions on it, but I am not quite ready for fictionpress or an actual publisher. Hope you enjoy 3 And one other note, none of the characters are related in this unless I say they are. Russia and Ukraine have NOTHING to do with each other, nor do Prussia and Germany. Everything but the character names has remained EXACTLY the same.

Mattie- Fem!Canada (And main character!)

Ivan- Russia

"popular girls"- BTT (I like them but SOMEONE had to be the bad guy).

Gilla- Fem!Prussia

Marie- Fem!Spain Slightly OOC

Francine- Fem!France

Miss B- Ukraine (I'm too lazy to write her whole last name, Braginskaya)

Ingrid- Fem!Norway (was originally Liechtenstein, but it was too OOC for her!)

Alfred- America

Lars- Netherlands

Bella- Belgium

Berwald- Sweden

Ludwig- Germany

**Prologue (April)**

I sat staring at the tiny laptop, curled up on my auntie's couch. A dark blush was forming on my face as I read what Ivan had typed back. The fact that he returned my feelings made me want to fly. Maybe he would be my first real relationship! I really did owe Gilla for pestering me until I added Ivan on Facebook.

He had written something new that was totally cutesy and adorable, and I erupted into giggles. I ignored the stares of my auntie and uncle. We had been typing back and forth for about fifteen minutes. This was probably the longest non-platonic conversation I'd ever had with a boy. However, Ivan obviously wanted to get back to socializing with other people at the get-together he was at. We said our goodbyes, and I shut the computer down, still smiling and feeling like the most beautiful and wonderful person ever to exist.

This was the first night I dreamed of a revolution. The day I, Madeline Williams, break out of my quiet and shy shell. The day I would dare to speak up, stand up for someone else or even just share my opinion. I just _knew _I could do it!


	2. Part 1: Christmas

Mattie- Fem!Canada (And main character!)

Ivan- Russia

"popular girls"- BTT (I like them but SOMEONE had to be the bad guy).

Gilla- Fem!Prussia

Marie- Fem!Spain Slightly OOC

Francine- Fem!France

Miss B- Ukraine (I'm too lazy to write her whole last name, Braginskaya)

Ingrid- Fem!Norway (was originally Liechtenstein, but it was too OOC for her!)

Alfred- America

Lars- Netherlands

Bella- Belgium

Berwald- Sweden

Ludwig- Germany

*****

I walk quickly through the bustling hallway, hoping to avoid notice. Especially the notice of Ivan and his stupid friends. Not that they would even pay attention to me anyway. It is just a paranoid nightmare I have. I swap binders at my locker and dash into Miss B's room. I like Miss B, I'm pretty sure I would even if English was not my favourite subject, or she wasn't my English teacher. I bet we would have been friends if she were my age. She seems like she maybe would understand me.

No. No one understands me. They don't understand what's it's like to have ugly, mousy hair, to know that you are so ugly no one will ever love you. They don't question their sexual orientation daily. They don't have depression. No, I am unattractive as hell, so unattractive that I'll never be one of the goddesses that Ivan Braginski probably dates. I'm still not sure that's a bad thing.

I sigh heavily and sit down, my mind far away from The small town of Hetalia, somewhere in one of my story worlds. I'm not joking, we just barely have a thousand people in our surrounding area, and only one school, unlike in America where the "Small towns" often seem to have a separate high school and elementary school. Anyways, in my daydream I am riding a griffin, and brandishing a bloody sword, bathed in glory.

A tiny piece of Gilla's conversation with her friends Francine and Marie sneaks its way past my daydream. Francine's ex boyfriend was irritating her apparently. Someone else comments, and she freaks-out on them, screaming that it's none of their business. I hide a snort. It's impossible not to overhear the "popular" girls' conversation. Marie and Francine both have voices so loud a normal human being has to yell into a megaphone to be heard over them talking. Not that anyone tries to talk over either of them anymore. I consider going to talk to them for some reason, maybe just to try using my voice at school for once. My common sense kicks back into place. I hate Gilla, and the three "popular" girls together might tick me off enough to have me ripping out what little hair I have.

Do I hate Gilla now? I'm so confused; one minute she acts like my best friend, the next she's making me feel like a worthless piece of crap. It's the same with Marie and Francine. The "popular" girls. Not really. People have just given up arguing with them. You can't argue with stupidity, right? They're not really stupid, but it's close enough. They have to always be right, and god forbid anyone else ever dare not share their opinions.

The rest of the class is a blur. We're reading To Kill a Mockingbird. I like it. No one else in my class seems to. It's just another thing that makes me an introverted-looser-freak.

***

Once I get home, my first thought is to load some videos on my laptop, make some peppermint tea, and retreat to my room. My dad goes straight to his computer and does not look up once. I pass the time before supper listening to music, pausing when I hear mom come home. I consider leaving my sanctuary to talk to her for a minute. I hear my dad and her talking and I give up on the idea. They're already probably too busy with talking about work to listen to me.

Supper is at five thirty. We eat in silence, watching the news. We are all at the table, and after we are sure the important stories are done, mom and dad start talking about work again. I roll my eyes and finish my meal. I quickly go back to my room.

Around seven my best friend, Ingrid, calls. I don't really feel like talking to her, but I don't want to tell her that either. I decide to talk. We don't really talk much, it's more of "roleplaying" with our favourite Anime. We create our own characters that we pretend are dating real characters. "I" am dating a character called Norway (A/N: LMFAO!). She switches every week, I switch every few months. I think it is because she's younger and is not quite ready for a long-term relationship the way I am. But I don't think I could have one. I'm not even sure what my sexual orientation is yet, and I've never kissed anyone before. Ingrid hasn't either, but at least she's only thirteen. I'm sixteen. By my town's standards, I shouldn't even still be a virgin right now. Not that my higher moral standards bother me.

After Ingrid and I say goodbye, I feel just as empty as I did before she called. The emptiness is nothing new for me. I always feel alone. I look at the ancient invisible scars on the back of my hand from a comb. I was thirteen at the time, and so confused and afraid. I was too scared to actually cut myself, so I scratched myself with a comb until my skin was raw. I hid my hands so well that no one noticed. Now the scars are invisible, but I can see them because I know exactly where they were. To me they stand out more then any part of my skin. I had done more stupid things when I was thirteen, writing on my closet door in marker had been pretty stupid. I had been having a near-mental breakdown due to two older guys bothering me. They've both graduated now. I no longer hate either of them, in their grade twelve year we became mutual acquaintances.

Mom is at the door. 'Grandpa and Grandma Williams got in a car accident.' She says. 'Grandma's fine, but Grandpa is in a coma.' I don't know if this news is painful or not. Grandpa hasn't been himself for a long time, not since he had a stroke back in October. I grunt and close my door again.

***

I curl up in a ball in bed at my made-up bedtime of ten, clutching a stuffie my brother Alfred bought for me years ago. I don't know why it means so much to me, I have plenty of hand-me-downs from him. Maybe it is the knowledge that he had been about fourteen at the time, and yet had still used his own money to buy me something from a baseball game. That team no longer exists now, the stuffie is probably worth a lot. I don't plan to ever sell it. I glance at a stuffed dog. An old guy friend named Lars had bought that for me years ago. Even though we still occasionally talk, it's almost like he's died - rather then moved away. He's such a different person now. Not that I haven't changed, but it hurts to think of him as a completely different person. Well… I guess he's still as nice and smart as he was when we were kids. It doesn't change the fact that I miss him. I silently cry myself to sleep, unaware as to why I am so upset. Perhaps it is a mixture of missing both my brother and Lars.

***

My Grandpa passed away in late November, and attending the funeral was hard for me. I am just glad it's over.

Christmas eve is tomorrow. I am not as excited about it as I normally would be. I curl up on the black leather couch reading about the French Revolution. I am partially paying attention to the CBC, since they are talking about the Arab Spring. I don't know why I like revolutions anymore. I used to have a reason, but it's long since escaped me.

The doorbell rings. My mom rushes and greets my auntie and Grandma Williams. We thought it would be nice for them to come to our house for Christmas. I force a smile and put my book back in my room. I embrace both of them enthusiastically. No one notices I am forcing it. My brother arrives from college in the city soon after. My joy is real when I hug him. I appreciate him more now that he's hardly around. The evening is fun. We play a Canadian trivia game. My dad and I win of course, purely because he knows almost everything, it seems.

***

Christmas eve is the usual tradition. We go to church (though we get a ride this year because Grandma Williams can't walk three blocks), and then we finally get to open presents. Mom and dad bought me a couple CDs I wanted. Grandma bought me a new journal. Alfred bought me a nice sweater. Auntie bought me The Hunger Games book, as per suggestion of my cousin. It sounds like an interesting premises, judging by the back cover. I'm four chapters in by bedtime. I already have a hunch that Katniss is going to start a revolution. Huh, more talk of revolution. Why does that make me feel funny inside? I still can't remember why a revolution seems like a good idea.


	3. Part 2: Valentines Day Yay

I scowl at the TV. All of the shows are romantic today. I hate romance; it reminds me of how alone I am. And always will be. I bite my lip to keep from screaming in frustration. To calm myself I remind myself that I still have a harem of imaginary boyfriends. It doesn't help. They can't offer me real love or affection, or hugs. I seem to want those recently. A friendship that I've created with Bella, a girl a year older then me, can offer some affection that Ingrid is not capable of. Bella doesn't mind giving me random hugs when I feel alone. I originally started being friendly back in September of last year for the selfish purpose of not having to be alone at school all the time. Bella means so much more to me now.

I am also ticked off due to a cosplay video I watched. In it, two of the actresses kissed for the storyline. When someone asked in a comment, one of them said they were in a relationship. This has me questioning my own orientation more then normal. Sometimes I really do wonder if my celebrity crushes on female celebrities aren't so much "bro" crushes as a different kind. I'm almost literally pulling out my hair from confusion by now. I'm swearing at myself in my head, and gritting my teeth. So much for calming down.

The phone rings. It's Ingrid. At least we can rant about how stupid Valentines Day is together now. That's what Ingrid has that Bella doesn't. Even though she's younger, Ingrid is often more intelligent then I am, and almost as Introverted as I am. She relates to me better then Bella does sometimes, not to mention hates Valentines Day as much as I do. Bella likes the stupid holiday.

We goof off and talk about our crushes. I don't really like Ivan anymore, but I don't want to tell anyone why. I'm ashamed that I was so stupid. I've told Ingrid what happened, but she was not sympathetic. Sometimes her unsympathetic bluntness bothers and hurts me. Usually I love it.

Right now, she's making me feel great, complaining about how her classmates bugged her and her crush throughout the day. They got told to go on a date a billion times in five hours apparently. Ingrid left her school at lunch time just to escape her irritating classmates. I feel guilty about being glad her day was worse then mine. I push away the guilt.

Not even Gilla or Ivan bothered me today. I don't know if this hurts me or makes me happy. Ivan still says "hi" to me occasionally, in a cocky and irritating voice. Sometimes I blush and respond to the greeting. Usually I just seethe to myself. He's got a lot of nerve, talking to me after last April. Gilla does too, but I'm blaming Ivan for what happened more. I know it is not fair, since it really was because of Gilla, but I've never really been normal, or thought in a way that makes sense.

Ingrid and I roleplay for a while, I talk about my upcoming "wedding" with Norway. In our messed up world, weddings and divorces happen overnight. She's "dating" one of our other favourite characters. He's Spanish, and she's been obsessed with Spanish guitar lately. So she's decided to "date" him for a couple weeks. I think this is the longest "boyfriend" she's had since the days of our very first Anime. That is probably two years ago by now.

My dad buys on-sale chocolate for me the day after Valentine's Day. I appreciate it. Nothing makes life better then raspberry chocolate and peppermint tea while reading The Lord of the Rings for the zillionth time. And that's just how I spend my Saturday. I stay curled up in my room, reading and listening to my music. My music is an angsty mixture of gothic and just plain metal, punk, grunge, and dark pop. I make sure to keep the level low, lest my mom hear the swears. And there are a lot. It doesn't bother me. If a song is good, then it's good. I'm not generally picky.

Once I get bored with reading, I grab my notebook and start writing. I'm not very good, and I know that. Everyone tells me I am, but I only seem to be because I am more creative-based then most people in my class. I write down three different scenes from three different stories, all four pages long, before I get bored of writing as well. All three of them are about revolutions. I'm still not sure why I am so fixated on the topic. I lie on my bed and listen to music for a couple hours. By the time I am bored of my music it's ten. I don't feel like staying up late. I go to bed.


	4. Part 3: The Truth

I am unexplainably angry. February gives way to March through a wave of fury on my part. Miss B's room continues to be my refuge from my classmates. She is the only teacher that really stands up to them about what we call "beak wars". Basically a bunch of people make fun of each other until someone takes it too far and makes someone else mad. Everyone but me finds them just hysterical. I think they sound stupid and ignorant. There are often a lot of terrorist jokes, and racist jokes, and parent jokes. I would punch someone in the face if they made fun of either of my parents. I want to punch them all for making fun of other religions. I relish the thought of them being punched for their racism once they get into the real world. I seem to enjoy punching lately. As much as I like my classmates, sometimes they tick me off too much for me to maintain my sanity.

Marie and Francine are rant-yelling about something. I think someone made a monkey/ape joke. I want to say something to make everyone shut up. I stay silent. My voice is too quiet to be heard, and even if I did have a loud voice, no one would care what I have to say. And no one would back me up. I don't have any close friends in my class. I imagine the things I would say if I could speak up.

Miss B starts talking, and I force myself to pay attention. Apparently we're going to have a class debate. Yeah, right. It'll just be the "popular" girls yelling their opinions and not allowing anyone else to talk. I think. I consider voicing my concern, but rule against it. Marie and Francine would probably yell at me to shut up.

Later, in the evening, I am sitting on my bed, meditating about my life. I stumble on to a memory I wish I could forget. I continue to think about it anyway. I need to learn to face my fears, or I'll never get anywhere in life. It really is pathetic that such a miniscule thing hurt me so badly, made me contemplate suicide. Until that moment, I hadn't thought about suicide for quite a while. Now it is one of my most common thoughts, though one I prefer not to mention. I force myself to go back in time, to April a year ago.

_I was bouncing with excitement when we got home from Saskatoon. Maybe I could talk to Ivan on Facebook again! I dashed through the door and went straight to my laptop. I impatiently tapped my fingers while it started up. I didn't even check my e-mail, I rushed straight to Facebook. I held back an excited squeal; there was a message from Ivan! I opened it immediately._

_**That wasn't me last night.**_

_I felt like the entire universe had ended. I was ready for the Horsemen of the Apocalypse to come take me to Hell. Hell itself was probably better then how I felt._

_**Yeah, I kinda figured. I wasn't going to say anything just in case, you know? Who was it anyway?**_

_After sending my poker-faced reply, I logged off and closed my laptop and slowly walked to my room. I closed my door and slid down with my back against it, the way they do in movies. I silently sobbed to myself, feeling the pain of rejection. My first really harsh rejection. An enormous slap in the face. 'Who was I to think I could have a stupid "revolution"?' I thought savagely to myself. 'God, why am I so damn __**stupid!**__' My crying-fest continued, and I flung myself on my bed, muffling my gradually increasing in volume sobs. 'I quit. It's obvious a revolution will never happen, I can't even handle rejection!'_

I wipe a tear away from my face. I'm not done with my painful reminiscing, but I need a break. I grab myself some tea and proceed with my reminiscing.

_Ivan had blamed one of his friends, Berwald, for my humiliation. It doesn't make sense to me; He's really tall and can look intimidating, but I know he's not that mean. He's one of the nicest people I know. I decide to consult Gilla, she might be able to help me. I had been talking to her before "Ivan" and she had mentioned she was at a friendly get-together, so he probably was there too._

_'Oh, that was me!" She laughs. I force myself to laugh with her. 'I can't believe you didn't catch on, I even signed off Facebook to go on his account with him!'_

_'Yeah,' I responded, faking a short laugh. 'God that was stupid of me, huh?' I was furious and mentally calling her every single insult I could think of. It took all my strength to walk away still chucking, rather then punching her in the face._

I grit my teeth. I bet everybody at the get-together had a real hardy-har-har making fun of me for not realizing I was being played. I punch my pillow. As angry as I am, I have to admit I feel a lot better now that I've forced myself to accept that it's happened, and it's done. My anger isn't gone; it's as strong as it was when I started to meditate. I drift off to sleep to the thought of what I would do if I were the Evil Overlord of the World. I would probably be the cruellest ruler in history.

_(A/N) This next part until the end of the chapter is still controversial._

I dream of other bullying incidents. My memory goes back to kindergarten, where no one but Lars will so much as look at me. I try being friendly with the other kids. They ignore me and turn the other way. My parents and the teachers are oblivious. I meet Ingrid at church. She is two and I am five. We become friends instantly.

Grade One. I am still invisible, unless Gilla, Marie, and another girl feel like making fun of me for believing in unicorns and enjoying reading. I am the shortest and slowest runner in my class. I decide I have a crush on a guy named Ludwig, because in my mind he's Gilla's boyfriend, and the loser always gets the popular girl's boyfriend.

I give up talking to anyone during grades two and three. I am ignored if I try.

Grade Four. I am silent now. I don't even try to talk to anyone anymore. This is the first time I am stupid enough to tell Gilla who I like. The whole class knows in a matter of minutes. Ludwig treats me like a piece of dirt, rather then ignoring me. Everyone else teases me constantly. I sometimes come home crying.

Grades five and six are more silence. Lars moves in grade six, and I become nearly mute during school.

By grade seven I am depressed and trying to be a dark punk. It seems silly since I still listen to kids music. Gilla once more worms another boy crush out of me. It is grade four all over again. I had almost been friends with the guy before Gilla told him I like him. Francine has moved to St. Walburg. She instantly joins the ranks of Gilla and Marie.

Grade eight seems to be the year everything will change. Maybe. Until the all-too-familiar boy cycle with Gilla repeats. She tells two older guys I like them. I don't. They "flirt" with me anyway. I feel like I am being sexually harassed, but don't want to do anything. This is the first year all three of the "popular" girls silence me. Ingrid moves.

Grade nine is the same. The older boys still bother me. I am still too afraid of them to ask them to stop. The vicious by cycle with Gilla doesn't repeat. I am smart enough to keep any crushes I have to myself now. I lie through my teeth and say "no" every time Gilla asks me if I hate her. Not that that happens very often. No one talks to me unless we're doing a project together. Even then they sometimes ignore me.

Grade ten is when the older boys decide to leave me alone. We kind-of become friends after that. I meet Bella. Everything is looking up. I am still silenced whenever I try to talk, but at least I have a friend to talk with after school. I have an enormous crush on Ivan. He and Gilla use this to mess with me. My brain skips the entire memory of the Facebook incident, perhaps it's a sign that I am ready to move on.

Present day. I am still quiet. But maybe I can change that.


	5. Part 4: The Debate

We are all seated in a circle waiting for the debate to begin. Miss B quickly does attendance and then announces that we should begin. It is exactly like I predicted. Marie especially seems determined to not let the other side get a word in. Even though I am on her side, I am annoyed. Miss B gets so annoyed and frustrated she actually threatens to leave.

'No, no we need to stop.' She calls, daring to interrupt Marie, and magically managing to be heard.

'Why? I thought it was a pretty good debate.' Marie says, Gilla and Francine nodding in agreement. Miss B laughs and I secretly join her behind my hand.

'No. A debate is two sides talking something over, and listening to each other. This was one side shouting over the other.' My classmates make some more unimportant and stupid arguments. Eventually the room quiets a little. I roll my eyes. No one else seems to get it, but it's not like I'm going to point out the problem. I don't want to get yelled at. Light as a creampuff; Strong as a rock. I wince. Where did that saying come from? Oh, yeah. Lars. He had always said that to me in gym class when I was afraid to get involved because I was smaller then everybody else. The memory of my eight-year-old self helps me decide on something reckless in this moment. That's a lie, I don't even think about it. All I know is that I, "Mattie the Invisible Girl", am going to say something! I will not be afraid just because I'm small and have a quiet voice anymore!

'It's because you guys can't shut up.' I state loudly, clearly, and plainly, looking straight at Marie, Gilla, and Francine while I say it. The reaction is pretty much what I expected. Almost the entire class yells at me to shut up and start ranting and trying to yell over each other again. I openly giggle. Thanks for proving my point you guys, I think, high on adrenalin. I had spoken out, and the world hadn't ended! Miss B really does leave the room out of frustration eventually. I feel bad, but am too excited to dwell on it.

***

Over the course of the next few hours, much of the class is sent to the principal's office. We each get to explain our case. I am not surprised when I am called. I made everyone freak out again once they were almost calm. I am surprised I'm not in trouble. The story is slightly twisted; she thinks I told everyone to shut up. I tell my version of the story. She believes me. She asks me if I think the "popular" girls are bullies. The moment of truth. To tattle, or not to tattle. I am not ready to talk about my humiliation yet. I give an indefinite answer, saying that they could be sometimes.

***

I sit in the library during my spare the next morning. I am still feeling bad about getting everyone started again. I write a letter to Miss B, rather then telling her face-to-face. Either way would be awkward, but I prefer not being over-heard. I crumple up several prototypes and rip them to shreds. I finally find something I can live with. It's still insanely awkward, but Miss B will hopefully understand.

In the letter I tell her how much I appreciate her, how much she inspires me. Does she inspire me? I think about it. Yes, she does. She accepts my creativity more then almost anyone else in the school, isn't weirded-out by my love for gothic art the way some others are. And she has the courage to stand up to the "popular" girls without yelling at them or separating them, and to call out my classmates on how horrible their "beak wars" are. That sticks out in my mind.

I am apathetic when I take my letter to her. She has the grade tens in her room. My heart pounds when I walk past Ivan, but he remains unusually quiet. Good. I don't want to talk to him. I hand Miss B the letter and quickly scoot out, not wanting to be there when she finished. Although I tell her how much I appreciate her, I also say that I am not sorry for speaking out, because someone had to. Somehow I don't think she'll mind. She knows I'm hopelessly awkward by now hopefully. I feel free as I walk back to the library. More free then I've felt for years. Maybe, just maybe, this really is the start of my self-discovery, my revolution.


	6. Epilogue

The rest of the school year and the summer fly by in a heartbeat.

It is September, and I still feel pretty good. I speak out a little in class, mostly History and English, but seeing as I only have those two classes and Chemistry, that's pretty great. I no longer am suicidal, though I still have my days of depression. I am also getting better at talking to people, and taking pride in myself when I initiate conversation on my own. I am no longer a doormat for the "popular" girls. All in all, my grade twelve year is starting off in a pretty great way.

I sit in my room listening to a cheerful punk-rock song. There is one thing that still bothers me though. I am still wondering about my sexual orientation. I have always known there is something different about me. Maybe I am a lesbian? I shake my head. No. I still get crushes on guy celebrities too. However, most of the guys I find attractive are pretty feminine looking, and my "manly" crushes seem to be something more sometimes. I think for what feels like hours, feeling like I need a decision made now. I don't know why, but I feel like I'll explode if I don't decide now.

For the time being I decide to go with bisexual, but leaning more towards women, since I am still not positive. My immediate reaction is to tell Ingrid. I rush to the computer to see if she's on our e-mail chat. She is. I tell her, feeling nervous despite knowing that she will accept me no matter what. She just says "Okay". I smile. Leave it to Ingrid to hear something enormous like this and merely say okay. Perhaps she had already suspected it. I rant to her for a while, but it isn't enough. I need to tell Bella too. I explain where I am going to my parents and run to Bella's house. She lives just down the alley, so it is not that far to run.

We go down to her basement and I tell her. She hugs me and shrugs, saying it's not a big deal. I admit I want to keep it a low profile for now, knowing that I would be teased if I came out at school.

'I know my class probably won't care,' I say. 'But I'm scared of what the grade eleven boys would do. A few of those little cockroaches would probably tear me apart!' I admit, tearing up slightly. She hugs me again.

'It's okay, I'll be there if they dare try.' I smile hugely. After we've almost exhausted the subject (Due to it being so new, and feeling too good to stop denying it, I can not shut up about my new found bi-sexuality), I decide to tell her my reason. Ingrid had said my reason was pretty good, but I want to know what Bella thinks.

'I don't give a damn about the genitalia of my romantic partner. I do not care if they are a man or woman, transsexual or a hermaphrodite. They are what they are, and I will love them for it. In a way, it's not really "bisexuality" as more of "I don't give a damn what the person I love identifies themselves as; If they love me and I love them, that's all that matters." But that is too long to say on an average basis, so I sum it up with "bisexuality".' I admit shyly. Bella grins.

'Well, makes sense to me. For you, anyways.' We change the topic to getting our drivers licenses.

'I'm just too lazy to learn to use a stick-shift' I say. We stare at each other for a few seconds before we burst out laughing. 'Well that is an awkward thing to say, considering what I just came here to tell you!' I manage to choke out. She nods, still in hysterics.

Once I finally get to bed, I cannot help but think to myself for a while. Even though getting that off my chest feels amazing, there is still something nagging at me. _I have no Idea what is wrong now, but I am pretty sure I know how to deal with it._ I grin and imagine what my masterpiece will be once I am done.

I spend a vast majority of the following evening writing my story down. I plan to show it to Ingrid, Bella, and, hopefully, Miss B. I don't know why I need to show Miss B. It just feels right to me. I also want to show my classmates.{*} It may be the way I "come out" to them. But I am not sure. I still need time before I am ready. And perhaps the "popular" girls would spaz on me for mocking them openly, and miss the entire point of my story. This thought makes me snort. Let them get angry then. I've been handling them for years now.

I smile to myself while I type the last sentence, knowing that I was wrong before. This story is the real beginning of my quest to find my true self. My real revolution.

_*I am fully aware that this is an insanely stupid idea and have no intentions of publishing this story until I move to the city._


End file.
